Wounded Blades
by meryvamp
Summary: **Chap. 4 is up!** Praxis' past continues to haunt him, but what sort of past is Praxis continually running from? And why is Deimos so keen on helping him out? Just what does Deimos want from him?
1. The Trap

**Warnings:** Contains yaoi and language.

**Preview Line:** Praxis listened for another moment, heard even more moans, and then Cain said, "Now, be a good boy and tell me."

_**Wounded Blades**_

**Chapter One**

_The Trap_

Praxis drifted in and out of sleep: sweaty, confused, and hurt. He wanted to wake up, but something gripped at his consciousness, pulling him deeper into the dream.

A voice called out to him, _"Don't leave me!"_

Praxis' heart lurched violently in his chest as he recognized that pained voiced. He looked around desperately in the endless darkness, hopelessly searching for _him._ Where was he? Where had he gone?

Again, the voice echoed in the darkness. This time it came from beside Praxis' ear as if from thin air, and he spun, staring into the nothingness of the dark. However, the boy's words continued to resonate within the stilled silence, gutting Praxis from the inside.

_"How could you? You failed me!"_

With a start, Praxis' eye bolted open. _No! That's not what happened!_ It wasn't like that—

Praxis' heavy dream-induced thoughts vanished instantly as some foreign noise grabbed his attention. His eye throbbed from aches of the past, and it took a moment before Praxis could take in his surroundings of the dimly lit infirmary.

Praxis lay on his back, secluded by the white curtains completely drawn around his small cot. The sound repeated, but this time, it was slightly different than the first. Praxis listened to a muffled voice mixed with the distinct shifting of cloth upon the cot to the left of him. Alert, Praxis slowly and quietly raised his body up into a sitting position.

No one else was supposed to be in the infirmary. Doctor Galen had locked the infirmary's door when he'd left Praxis inside.

The doctor knew about Praxis' "condition" and was willing to not only keep his secret, but also, help Praxis by providing him with pain medication for his now nonexistent left eye.

The pain had been dull and slow at first when he'd lost his eye, but he'd easily ignored the pain. However, it seemed his left eye kept trying to remind him of his past mistakes. It chained him down and tried to drown him in the pain.

When the pain had become so intense he feared he would become a hazard if he were assigned to another mission, or worse, another navigator, Praxis had finally decided he needed to do something about it. He didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

So, he finally went to the infirmary, where he had met, Doctor Galen, who had been extremely understanding. Galen knew if other fighters or Commander Bering discovered Praxis' weakness, Praxis would be expelled, deemed weak, and sent back to Earth.

The doctor had done everything to help reduce Praxis' pain, and for a while, the pills seemed to work. However, recently, the pills' effectiveness had gradually declined, and Praxis was left with an ever-increasing amount of pain and no alternatives to help him.

Still, the little blue pill that Galen provided him with at least knocked Praxis out, which in turn dulled the pain and allowed him to forget about it temporarily. Praxis would gladly take that over nothing.

And so, Praxis found himself, yet again, in the infirmary because of his damn "condition." But, he was definitely sure he'd seen the doctor lock the door before he left. So who was sitting on the cot next to him and how had they gotten in?

As soon as Praxis thought that, a rough and somewhat angry-sounding voice echoed throughout the small infirmary.

"So what the hell did you drag me here for?"

The voice was deep with a distinct accent and an edginess that said he was constantly in a foul mood. Praxis could've recognized that arrogant bastard's voice even if all Cain had done was grunt.

_Damn it._ What the hell was Cain doing in here? And who the hell was he talking to? Praxis listened closely for another person to respond. Then Praxis thought, _what if Cain is talking to Doctor Galen?_ What if the doctor was planning to tell Cain about Praxis' "condition"?

Praxis' mind roamed over the possibilities while hushed sounds murmured from beyond the curtains. Praxis stared behind the drawn curtain and realized he could just barely make out the silhouettes of two figures sitting down on the cot.

A low primal growl rang from beyond the curtains. "What the fuck! I hate it when you do this, Deimos! What is it, goddamnit? Just fucking spit it out already!" Cain yelled.

Praxis clenched his fists at the sudden rage that coursed through his body. Cain's voice grated on his nerves. Praxis bit his lip, fighting against the urge to rush out from his hiding spot and pound Cain into the floor. He had no good reason to. He just flat out hated the smug bastard.

But then Praxis heard a small whimper and realized that must have come from Deimos. Praxis didn't personally know Deimos and had never even uttered a word to the boy, but he knew_ of_ him. And what Praxis had heard about Deimos, he couldn't imagine Deimos ever being the type who'd whimper.

Deimos was small in frame, and many other fighters thought Deimos looked similar to a navigator. Because of his small body, they thought they could have a go at him, but Deimos wasn't easily taken down. He was an excellent fighter. But mostly, Praxis had heard about Deimos' speed. The boy might be small, but even the strongest man couldn't knock him down if they couldn't catch him.

Praxis was so busy with his internal thoughts that he almost missed Deimos' barely audible mutter to Cain.

"Don't trust Abel," Deimos whispered.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then Cain chuckled loudly and said, "What? As if I'd ever trust that boy anyway!"

Cain ended with a snort, but again, an uncomfortable silence seemed to fill the air. A loud bang followed, and Praxis almost jumped off his cot, reaching for one of his knives safely concealed within the suit's lining at his wrists.

However, as he heard more cloth shifting and the soft whimpering of Deimos, he realized that Cain had somehow gotten on top of Deimos and was now aggressively holding him down on the cot. But the way Deimos moaned, Praxis didn't think the boy seemed to mind at all.

"Now, I'm only asking this strictly out of curiosity, Deimos, so don't you fucking repeat it. But why exactly shouldn't I trust Abel?" Cain asked, and Praxis heard Deimos groan in response as if Cain had done something he liked.

Praxis listened for another moment, heard even more moans, and then Cain said, "Now, be a good boy and tell me."

Praxis heard Deimos' heavy pants, but slowly, the boy obeyed Cain and answered. "B-because… Abel's just a pawn. He's Commander Cook's tool to use against you and Commander Bering," Deimos said as his breathing steadied.

Cain snarled, and the sound of scuffling followed.

"Cain?" Deimos cried, and Praxis could practically hear the boy's heart break.

"What?" Cain yelled: cold, menacing, and uncaring.

But instead of responding to Cain, Deimos only sniveled again. Praxis wanted to beat the shit out of that asshole for Deimos and Abel. However, Praxis was entirely distracted by Deimos' words. Had he really heard Deimos correctly? Abel was working for Commander Cook against Cain and Bering? Where on Earth did this kid get his information? And if that was really true, why were both commanders at war with one another? Weren't they supposed to be focused on fighting the Colterons? Just what the hell was going on?

Praxis' brain was overloaded with questions and, apparently, Deimos held the key to the answers. Was that why Cain kept Deimos to himself and even mistreated the boy, purposefully keeping him on a short leash?

As if on cue, Praxis heard a loud squeak, which was unmistakably the vinyl from the spacesuits, resound throughout the room. Praxis wondered briefly whom had grabbed whom, but as he looked at the outlines behind the curtain, he could see a taller, broader shaped figure leaning down over the cot and over a still figure. The motionless figure was obviously Deimos, and it appeared one of Cain's hands wrapped around the boy's throat, while the other seemed to disappear somewhere near his thigh.

"Listen Deimos, the plan has always been the same. I get rid of _them,_ you are my informant, and Bering tells us what to do from there. We don't question it. Abel is just another thorn. I'll handle him, okay? Just like the last one," Cain said, and Praxis heard the squeak of the vinyl as he released Deimos.

"Stay the fuck out of my way, Deimos. That's the only warning I'll give you," Cain said, and Praxis watched as a shadow version of Cain walked toward the door.

"Cain," Deimos mumbled under his breath, but Praxis was sure Cain hadn't heard him.

Praxis heard a swooshing noise as the air-sealed door opened and then again as it automatically closed, but it remained unlocked now that the code had not been re-entered.

What had Cain meant by he'd get rid of _them_ and he'd handle Abel? Just what was going on? What were Commander Bering, Cain, and Deimos up to? Praxis had a million questions and he wanted to hurl all of them at Deimos, but if he did that, he'd also inadvertently expose himself. Deimos would question why he was even in the infirmary, and Praxis didn't want anyone else to know about his "condition," especially since they could use it as leverage against him.

So, Praxis stayed absolutely still, hoping Deimos would get up from his cot soon and leave. Praxis could barely see Deimos' outline since the boy seemed to be lying down, so Praxis tried relying on his ears but he only heard silence. It was unnerving, and Praxis feared to make even the slightest move.

"I know you are there, Praxis," Deimos said, and the boy sounded amused and extremely confident as if he'd planned this all along.


	2. Winner Takes All

****Disclaimer: ****Smexy Deimos and Praxis belong to the amazing HamletMachine!

**Warnings:** Contains yaoi, language, and minor violence.

**Preview Line:** The boy licked his soft, pink lips, drawing Praxis' attention to them, and as they glistened, Praxis realized those lush, round lips were indeed kissable.

_**Wounded Blades**_

**Chapter Two **

_Winner Takes All _

Praxis' heart nearly jumped up into his throat, threatening to choke him. And for a moment, Praxis couldn't bring himself to move, even though Deimos had just declared he knew Praxis was there.

Praxis couldn't believe his shitty luck and his sheer stupidity. However, as Praxis worked his mind around the fact that no matter what he was indeed caught by Deimos, his limps gradually unhinged themselves. But before he stood up, Praxis wondered if he should take out one of his knives, but then ultimately decided to leave it be…for now.

Against his better judgment, he rose to his feet, pulled back the curtains in one quick sweeping gesture, and saw Deimos sitting on the cot, beaming up at him. The boy sat on the edge of the cot with his arms folded in his lap and his legs crossed. Deimos' jet-black hair had one lose strand that fell ceaselessly into his metallic-colored eyes.

Deimos grinned self-assuredly at Praxis' entrance and said, "What? Did you think I'd attack you?"

"I wouldn't put it past you, Deimos. How did you get in here anyway? I saw Doctor Galen lock it," Praxis said, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Well, he did, but that particular doctor can be paid off when he's really desperate. Everyone loves a good BJ, or hand job, every now and again," Deimos said as he teasingly brought his finger to his lips, skillfully swallowed his entire finger, and proceeded to pull his finger in and out of his mouth like it was a lollipop.

Praxis watched in fascination at Deimos' alluring display and foolishly tried to hide how his eye widened, not out of shock at the boy's boldness but out of pure lustful temptation. Praxis hastily chastised himself for such irregular thoughts and reminded himself he no longer needed to fulfill his desires of the flesh. But thankfully, Deimos dropped his teasing finger anyway and resumed talking.

"That's also how I knew you were here," Deimos continued. "That doctor told me he couldn't give me the door's code because he already had a sleeping patient in here, but I told him that I just needed the room for one cot and that I wouldn't bother his other patient. He made me promise not to bother you, which, of course, I obliged.

"But the funny thing was, I had already seen you, Praxis, come and go from the infirmary so many times that right away I knew the doctor was talking about you. Nothing on this ship happens without me knowing about it," Deimos said, and Praxis could practically see the pride emanating from him.

_Shit, shit, shit._ Praxis was in so much shit. This little damn brat was going to tell on him, and Praxis was going to lose everything!

_Think! Think, Praxis!_ He needed to come up with some alternative, something this little brat wanted…The only thing Deimos wanted was Cain, and there was no way in hell Praxis could offer him that. Praxis couldn't even talk to the guy without wanting to grind his fist into that arrogant punk's face.

So was there really nothing else he could do? Was there really nothing else he could offer Deimos?

He looked at Deimos, who still stared back at him complacently, but Praxis was thinking about the conversation he'd overheard between Deimos and Cain, and how Deimos had told Cain not to trust Abel. He was also thinking how Deimos had whispered to Cain and how Praxis had almost missed it entirely.

Praxis hoped he was on the right track and asked, "So, are Abel and Commander Cook really working together?"

Praxis eyed Deimos carefully, and for a brief second, the smugness faded from Deimos' face, and his expression seemed to freeze into one of pure horror. However, that look vanished just as soon as it had appeared, and Praxis was left wondering if he'd actually caught Deimos off guard or not.

"Oh, that! No, that wasn't true," Deimos said and waved his hand dismissively. "I told that to Cain because I want him to be with me, and I always get what I want." Deimos gave Praxis a sly yet somehow seductive smile, which made Praxis' skin tingle in ways he'd long forgotten about.

Praxis managed to shake off that perplexing feeling and said, "Hmm, don't you think that's dangerous? What if Cain found out you lied to him?"

Deimos' shot his silver-tinted eyes upwards towards Praxis' one right eye, and the shock in the boy's face was clearly apparent this time. Deimos realized Praxis wasn't playing along with his game; Praxis had too much to lose. Losing wasn't an option.

Deimos' silver eyes narrowed as he said, "You wouldn't dare…"

"Did you really think you could come in here and threaten me, you little brat! I won't let you go to Bering with this. This is my goddamn career you are talking about!" Praxis spat at Deimos, his emotions steadily boiling out of control.

"You are playing with my life like it is nothing," Praxis ranted on before Deimos could interrupt. "Be thankful I'm only threating to expose your pathetic, nonexistent sex life."

"It's not nonexistent!" Deimos protested, startling Praxis yet again. "And…it's n-not a sex life….i-it's…a love life!" the boy suddenly declared, his pale checks flushing a brilliant crimson red.

Praxis inadvertently took a step back, stunned by Deimos' outburst, and perhaps, by the extreme passion behind Deimos' confession. Was Deimos that head-over-heels in love with Cain? Praxis knew Deimos had a thing for Cain, but did Deimos really _love _him?

Praxis studied Deimos' expression and noticed the boy's flamed cheeks, his somewhat teary eyes, and even his nervously twitching hands. Like a bolt of lightening, Praxis finally realized why Deimos was always whimpering instead of kicking when he was around Cain.

"Oh my God! You really are in love with Cain, with that asshole!" Praxis exclaimed, and as if solving the last piece of the puzzle had taken everything out of him, Praxis flopped down beside Deimos onto the cot.

"Hey!" Deimos said and tried to shove Praxis' heavy thigh farther away from his, but Praxis didn't budge.

Deimos sighed as if he were annoyed rather than truly bothered by Praxis' presence next to him. But then Deimos mumbled, "Yeah, I guess I am."

Praxis barely caught the words. Again, the boy's voice was soft like water drifting down a bubbling brook, tepid and soothing. However, Praxis managed to catch the emptiness and sadness those few words carried, and his eye lifted to met the boy's gaze.

Unconsciously, Praxis blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "Why did you bring Cain here when you knew I'd be here? You could have caught me at any time," Praxis asked, surprising himself when he heard the hopefulness in his own voice.

Wait, what was Praxis expecting Deimos' answer to be? When Praxis racked his brain for Deimos' motives as to why he hadn't told Cain about Praxis being in the infirmary, Praxis drew a blank. He didn't know why Deimos was doing this, but he certainly knew Deimos wouldn't want Praxis instead of Cain, right? _Right?_ Unless, he was trying to use Praxis to make Cain jealous or something…

Praxis' last thought helped snap his senses back into place, and any disillusioned thoughts ceased instantly. Deimos didn't see Praxis that way, and he didn't see Deimos that way either. Praxis wasn't like Cain or the other fighters, not anymore anyway. He didn't have fantasies, especially not about a fighter like Deimos.

Deimos eyed Praxis skeptically as if he could see Praxis' internal struggle with his emotions, but instead of commenting on it, Deimos leaned back a bit, tilted his head to the side, and managed to look shy and cute all at once. He turned his head down slightly and looked out of the corner of his glittering eyes at Praxis and said, "We should probably go somewhere more private and finish this conversation, don't you think?"

Praxis glared at Deimos suspiciously, but then turned to look at the unlocked infirmary door. He knew the doctor would be back soon and anyone could walk in at any moment. Deimos didn't seem to be threatening him, or trying to escape. However, Praxis still had a lot of questions, and he needed to make sure Deimos wouldn't report his "condition" to his superiors.

So, a bit grumpily, Praxis nodded at Deimos and said, "Fine, you are right, but let's go to my quarters."

Deimos' head shot up, a slight alarm widening his pupils, but almost instantaneously it disappeared and he said, "Okay."

Praxis stood up first, and without waiting to see if Deimos followed him, Praxis turned away from the cot to walk towards the door. However, once he reached the keypad of door, Praxis turned back to see Deimos close on his heels. Startled, Praxis stumbled backwards into the cold steel of the door, but he immediately recovered and cleared his throat as if nothing had happened.

"Just so you know," Praxis said and pointed to Deimos' chest, "if you run, I won't hesitate to tell Cain you lied to him about the whole Abel and Commander Cook thing, and I'll also tell him you are very much in love with him. So, be a good boy."

Deimos curled his lips back into a menacing snarl, but then gave a nonchalant shrug and said, "Now, why would I do that after all the trouble of getting your attention?'

Praxis gave the boy a hard frown, but turned and opened the door. If the little brat ran once they exited the room, there really would be little Praxis could do. He wasn't about to go chasing him down the ship's hallways with a bunch of onlookers.

If Deimos ratted him out, then Praxis would keep his threat and tell Cain everything, especially that Deimos was in love with him. Praxis wasn't really sure if the boy was lying about he whole Abel thing or not, but he definitely knew Deimos loved Cain, which would only make Cain doubt Deimos.

Praxis and Deimos walked down the ship's long hallways, towards his quarters. He watched Deimos out of the corner of his eye and was pleasantly surprised to find Deimos obediently following him all the way to his quarters. Deimos looked irritated by it, but he, nonetheless, followed Praxis and even walked through the threshold of Praxis' doorway when Praxis punched in the code to the keypad to unlock the door.

Praxis entered after Deimos, but checked one last time to make sure no one was looking in the hallway. He locked the door behind him and saw Deimos cross the barren room to sit on one of the two beds.

Deimos looked bored and annoyed, and at the same time, Praxis could tell he was completely unconcerned by the fact that Praxis had just locked him inside his room. The boy didn't think Praxis would actually hurt him, or perhaps, he just didn't view Praxis as a threat. That irritated Praxis, but he tried not to let it bother him since he'd only brought the boy to his room for answers.

Praxis tried to gain control over his emotions as he crossed the room to stand directly in front of Deimos. The boy purposefully avoided Praxis' hard stare and seemingly frowned at the ground as if pouting.

Praxis wanted to grab his chin and force him to look him in the eye, but instinctively, Praxis knew if he grabbed the boy, touched the boy's skin, somehow, it would turn out badly. So, Praxis kept his hands to himself and opted to stand towering over the boy.

"Don't make me get violent with you. You were the one who suggested coming here, so start talking. Why haven't you reported me? You've had plenty of time to do so. What is it that you actually want from me?" Praxis asked, trying to keep the irritation from resurfacing.

Deimos sighed, but Praxis noticed the slight tremor in the boy's hands as Deimos finally turned his head up and gazed into Praxis' black-as-night colored eye. Deimos' lips no longer pressed downward into a frown, but instead, they curled playfully at the corners, forming his usual cocky smile. The boy licked his soft, pink lips, drawing Praxis' attention to them, and as they glistened, Praxis realized those lush, round lips were indeed kissable.

Deimos' smile widened, and as Praxis' darkened eye lingered on those luscious lips, he completely missed the sneaky palm as it came up and pressed hard, yet lovingly, into the center of his crotch. Praxis' jumped backwards, and regrettably, out of that warm hand's touch. He stared down in dumbfounded silence at Deimos' outstretched hand.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Praxis stammered as his hot blood rose to color his cheeks.

Deimos' smile faded just a tiny bit, but he daringly leaned closer to the edge of the bed, stretching his warm palm out farther towards Praxis' crotch again.

Swiftly, but perhaps a bit shakily, Praxis flicked his wrist and released his concealed knife. Just about every fighter who was smart had at least two concealed knives on them at all times.

In one quick twist, he aimed it at Deimos' throat, threatening to slash open the boy's throat if he did not back off. Praxis steadily pressed the tip of the blade into the boy's throat, but Deimos only arched his head backwards and continued to move his sweet palm up and down the vinyl lining of Praxis' suit.

Praxis was growing annoyed, not because of Deimos' skilled hand, but more so because of his own growing erection and the fact that he was so easily turned on. Growing desperate, Praxis applied more pressure on the blade and watched as a thin crimson line of blood flowed down Deimos' snowy white neck.

As that beautiful, yet horrific, path of red trailed down Deimos' flawless skin, tantalizing yet tainting it at the same time, Praxis was overwhelmed with the desire to lick that delicious streak of blood, if only to test its sweetness. It was then, when Praxis' mind was captivated by the mere thought of licking Deimos' bloodor perhaps, it was the thought of having his lips on Deimos soft skin that was driving him madthat the realization hit him.

He was in deep, deep shit.


	3. Irreplaceable

****Disclaimer: ****Smexy Deimos and Praxis belong to the amazing HamletMachine!

**Warnings:** Contains yaoi, minor violence, language.

**Preview line:** Deimos licked his lips seductively, and without warning, he reached down in between Praxis' legs, startling the hell out of Praxis.

_**Wounded Blades**_

**Chapter Three**

_Irreplaceable_

Despite his best attempts, Praxis was fully erect thanks to Deimos' skillful strokes. He, of course, realized he could stop this at any time by applying more pressure on the knife pointed at Deimos' throat. However, Praxis found the hand holding the knife actually lessening the pressure against Deimos' throat.

Vaguely, Praxis heard Deimos' satisfied harrumph, but he was already drowning in his own desires, which he'd long denied himself of.

He tried to fight against the young fighter and his own pulsating erection, but Deimos saw Praxis' weakened state and took his chance. With Praxis' guard lowered, the boy adjusted his hand over the hardened lump in between Praxis' legs. Deimos pushed just two of his fingertips over the curve of Praxis' straining shaft, causing Praxis' to spasm painfully against the restricting suit.

"Ah!" Praxis cried out embarrassingly, but the pain mixed with the pleasure had been too much all at once.

Praxis closed his eye, delighting in the exhilarating sensations coursing through his body, and for a moment, he panted uncontrollably. He had to take several gasps of air before he could open his eye again, but when he did, something sharp and metallic-like was directly in front of his good eye. It took a few seconds for his vision to adjust to the scene in front of him, but finally, he understood he had messed up terribly.

He'd dropped the knife.

He must have dropped it the second Deimos' touched him with his two fingers. Not only that, but Deimos had managed to grab the knife, move from the bed silently, and was now standing in front of Praxis, pointing the knife at him. The little bastard was more than skilled! He was stealthy, sneaky, and a damn tease! Deimos had turned Praxis on just to distract him and get the knife. Praxis felt like an idiot. How could he let Deimos get the damn knife from him?

Deimos gave him a practiced cocky smile, which eerily reminded him of Cain's smile. Praxis wanted to smack the brat.

"Tsk, tsk. You really are a virgin, aren't you," Deimos said, but the way he said it sounded more like statement than a question.

"Fuck!" Praxis cursed to himself under his breath but didn't give Deimos the satisfaction of answering his question, if it could even be called a real question.

Praxis usually wasn't this stupid. He didn't mess up like this, and he never gave into his own desires. He didn't have sex with any one, let alone another fighter! He'd seriously lost his damn mind.

Deimos leaned in, lowered the knife from his eye level, and pressed it into Praxis' throat, returning the favor. Praxis felt the cold tip of the blade slowly pierce his flesh, breaking the skin and bringing forth a warm trickle of blood down his neckline. Praxis didn't cringe but only stared defiantly into Deimos' silvery gaze.

"Hmm, such a tough guy but, of course, that's why I like you," Deimos said and smirked.

Deimos moved a step forward, and at once, his intimidating nature was lost. Deimos was an entire foot shorter than Praxis, but now that Praxis had seen firsthand what Deimos was truly capable of, Praxis didn't plan on making the same mistake twice and had every intention of getting his knife back.

Deimos licked his lips seductively, and without warning, he reached down in between Praxis' legs, startling the hell out of Praxis.

"Hey!" Praxis began, but the sudden poke of the knife at his throat cut him off.

Awkwardly and helplessly, Praxis watched as Deimos made him hard once again through his vinyl suit. Praxis' breathing became strenuous and his face grew warm. Yet this time with the presence of the knife constantly at his throat, Praxis eyed Deimos' hand, which held the knife.

Praxis waited for Deimos to loosen his grip if even just a little bit, or to drop the knife altogether. But the young fighter, although preoccupied by entertaining Praxis, was not about to make the same mistake Praxis had and give up the knife. He did, nevertheless, pause to unzip Praxis' suit, all the way to just below Praxis' hips.

Praxis really wanted that damn knife now. What the hell was Deimos doing? It just didn't make any sense, and if Praxis looked closely, he could see Deimos' hands trembling as they traveled up and down Praxis' body. Why was Deimos even touching him in such ways? Didn't he love Cain?

Praxis was getting annoyed and decided to, instead, refocus his efforts on finding a way to steal the knife from Deimos. If Praxis did that, then he'd only need to convince Deimos not to rat him out. But before Praxis could think of how to persuade Deimos, the silver-eyed boy started to speak.

"Don't make me use this on you, Praxis. That's not why I'm doing this," Deimos said, but his bottom lip visibly quivered as he spoke.

Praxis' suspicions grew when he remembered Deimos had never answered his question from earlier about why he had brought Cain to the infirmary knowing Praxis was there as well. What in the world was Deimos' motive in all this? Why was he trying to seduce him?

"What is going on, Deimos? Just tell me why are you doing this?" Praxis managed to get out quickly before the bratty fighter poked him again with the knife, and this time, Praxis flinched.

Upon hearing Praxis' question, Deimos' hand paused at the zipper on his suit, trembled, and then fell away. Deimos sighed loudly and lowered the knife to aim it at Praxis' chest instead of his throat.

"You are all sorts of fucked up, aren't you, Praxis?" Deimos said, but it wasn't exactly the response he'd expected, so he patiently waited for an explanation.

Deimos rolled his eyes and said, "Listen, I don't know your circumstances, nor do I give a fuck because quite frankly, I hate you, Praxis. Cain hates you, and so do I," Deimos said, his eyes glittering darkly.

Praxis already knew that much, or had guessed that much just by observing Deimos' actions. He'd seen Deimos following Cain around enough times to think they were at least good friends, and if Deimos was Cain's friend, then by default Deimos wouldn't like Praxis. But that still didn't explain why Deimos was throwing himself at Praxis?

Thankfully, Deimos continued to explain. "But orders are orders. The only thing they told me was you are someone that our side will need in the future, so we need to 'fix' you," Deimos said, and at the word_ fix_, he used his one free hand to form air quotes.

"You're something that can't be replaced. In order to 'fix' you, I was brought in. I was told it had something to do with your eye, and the fact that you can't fuck anymore. Anyway, I'm your goddamn replacement," Deimos said and jabbed the pointy knife at Praxis' vinyl chest for emphasis, but rather predictably, the durable suit withstood the sharp blade.

Praxis managed to process Deimos' information, and the one thing he got from it all was that Bering already knew about his eye. The commander knew everything he'd been through with his previous navigator and his "condition," which most likely was a resulting trauma from losing his own navigator.

Bering knew everything. He knew so much that he'd already sent someone, Deimos—a fighter to be exact—to ease Praxis' pain. Did Bering really think Praxis was worth so much? What had Deimos said? Praxis would be needed in the future? If that was the case, he definitely needed to take this as a sign, right? He _had _to get better, and if Deimos was the only way…

Praxis glanced at Deimos' metallic eyes, which reflected a clear hatred for Praxis. The boy wanted nothing to do with Praxis. And even though Praxis had been turned on earlier, he hesitated. It wasn't so much that Deimos blatantly didn't want him, but moreso, that Praxis was now thinking about what would come next. Praxis would have to reach out and touch Deimos. He'd have to kiss him, just like he used to with his last navigator.

Automatically, Praxis' body shook and his damn eye twitched and pulsed excruciatingly, causing his nerves to rip open and ripple throughout his whole body. Praxis clamped his eye closed, gasping as he fought past the pain.

Gradually, though, Praxis gained control over his breathing again as the pain ebbed into a slow throb. He gritted his teeth and bit back the remaining pain as his eye began to refocus. As it did, Praxis saw a worried Deimos standing on his tiptoes, close to his face.

Praxis almost involuntarily backed up a step, surprised to see Deimos so close, but when he gathered Deimos wasn't threatening him or attacking him, Praxis stilled his movements. However, Praxis couldn't help but wonder if the boy hated him so much, why did Deimos wear such a worrisome expression on Praxis' account?

Praxis' was still somewhat fogged from the pain, but at that exact moment, he knew he would do just about anything to make it stop.

He recognized what he was about to do next wasn't fair, wasn't logical, or right, but he couldn't convince himself to care or stop. The temptation was only inches from his lips, and Deimos had lowered the knife from Praxis' chest when he'd become concerned for him.

Praxis saw his opportunity and seized it. He grabbed Deimos by the wrist, which held the knife, painfully twisting his wrist behind his back until he dropped the knife. With his other hand, Praxis shoved his elbow hard into the back of Deimos' neck, forcefully spinning Deimos until Praxis was behind him, and shoving him forward into the nearest wall.

"Umph," Deimos grunted and immediately thrashed against Praxis.

Praxis used his brute strength and slammed Deimos hard, face first, into the cold, steel wall, and rotated Deimos' arm again, reinforcing the fact that he could break, not only Deimos' wrist, but his entire arm with just a mere twist of his hand.

"Uh!" Deimos wailed into the wall, and Praxis felt the tremor that traveled through his body from the sheer pain.

Fortunately, Deimos was completely still after that and his violent struggles ceased. However, he huffed one last time, exasperatedly against the wall. Praxis still didn't trust the brat, especially with one free hand, and he quickly seized Deimos' other wrist and twisted both of his wrists behind his back.

Deimos jerked and tried to elbow Praxis in the process, but Praxis caught his arm and twisted again. Deimos snarled but went still.

Praxis knew it was in Deimos' nature to fight. Even if Praxis had seen a glimmer of concern in Deimos' eyes, he knew Deimos would always fight him. Perhaps, Praxis liked that about him.

Even though Praxis had been hesitant earlier, Deimos was only inches from his lips and under his control. Praxis couldn't stop himself.

He bent over the exposed flesh in between Deimos' shoulders and ears. His cool lips startled Deimos and Praxis felt him jump, but Deimos didn't struggle against his touch. He stayed motionless as Praxis explored that small bit of flesh with his lips.

Deimos' skin was just as soft as Praxis imagined. There was no stubble like most men, and to top it off, Deimos' skin reminded him of the smell of springtime back on Earth. He smelled similar to a flower that always bloomed at the start of spring: sweet, crisp, and the purest color of white he'd ever seen. Praxis couldn't remember the name of the flower, but smelling Deimos now, he realized the scent wasn't entirely the same.

Deimos also had a musky scent mixed in, which was probably on account of being around other men all the time. Nevertheless, Praxis was amazed he was turned on by the boy's skin and scent alone.

He teased Deimos with just the warmth of his breath, trailing over Deimos' skin and using just the tip of his lip until Deimos begged for Praxis' wet tongue. Deimos shuddered underneath Praxis' touch. The young fighter's body responded despite his clenched fists. And no matter how much Deimos wanted to resist Praxis or hate him, as soon as Praxis flicked out his tongue against Deimos' exposed flesh, Deimos moaned eagerly and earnestly.

Praxis rewarded him with another strong, hard lick, circling his tongue and thoroughly investigating the crevice of Deimos' neck. But Praxis soon gathered he got the best reaction from Deimos when he closed his entire mouth over his flesh, swirled his tongue with a bit of pressure on Deimos' neck, and sucked, all at the same time.

Deimos' hands were no longer balled into fists, but instead, they flexed open and close as if trying to grasp for something desperately. As Praxis' tongue continually rolled over Deimos' flesh, he felt Deimos' quickening pulse.

Reluctantly, though, Praxis pulled away. Even though Deimos tasted and smelled delicious, he greedily wanted to explore more of Deimos, and since he felt he'd done a thorough job of turning Deimos on, Praxis felt he could risk a little more. But not without taking some safety measures first.

Praxis loosened his grip on Deimos' wrists, and when the young fighter didn't struggle or kick him, Praxis, promptly and firmly, turned Deimos around so that he was facing him. In the process, he kept a hold of both of Deimos' wrists and flipped his arms forward so that he could place both of Deimos' wrists high above his head.

Deimos made absolutely no resistance as Praxis moved him, but only stared up at Praxis' intertwined hands on the wall as if confused why Praxis had done that. Deimos didn't comment, though, and let both of his hands stay underneath Praxis' one firm hand.

Grateful that Deimos wasn't willing to put up a fight this time, Praxis leaned in again and continued. This time he went for Deimos' soft, pink lips, which had been driving him crazy every time Deimos licked them.

Praxis dove in ravenously, pressing his lips hard against Deimos'. Those lips were tender and small against Praxis' but Praxis was too hungry to appreciate their true texture, and he made quick work of the boy by forcefully thrusting his tongue into Deimos' mouth. Instantly, the young fighter wriggled against Praxis' advances, which only further thrilled Praxis and caused him to bite and nip at the boy's lips.

As soon as Praxis' let Deimos come up for air, he shouted, "Praxis, stop! You're too rough and fast! Calm down. I'm—," he tried, but Praxis didn't let him finish.

Praxis really didn't like being told he was doing it wrong. Granted, he knew he'd gotten a little too excited, but no one liked being told that. It was humiliating. Praxis growled at Deimos and squeezed both of Deimos' wrists together vigorously and painfully.

"Mph." Deimos winced and yanked his hands against Praxis' hold, trying to escape the obvious discomfort Praxis had caused.

But with his free hand, Praxis was already planning his next move and began unzipping the front of Deimos' vinyl suit. The zipper slid down effortlessly past Deimos' hip, dangerously near that trail of dark fuzz.

Enthralled, Praxis pressed his free hand over the squeaky, vinyl suit, down in between Deimos' legs, where, shockingly, he found a half-hard Deimos. Praxis touched him gently, leisurely stroked him up and down, and memorized the small bump, which slowly grew firmer and harder the faster Praxis stroked.

Praxis' onyx-colored eye looked at Deimos' glazed eyes, which were half-closed. Deimos' face was also a bit flushed and his lips were tightly pressed together as he tried to stifle his quiet moans. Praxis watched as Deimos' pearly white chest shuddered the harder Praxis rubbed, and Deimos' fingers trembled underneath his firm grip. But finally, one of Deimos' hushed moans escaped his tight lips.

"Mmm," Deimos whimpered sexily.

Praxis lost all control. Any thoughts of his past vanished and raw desire filled him.

Praxis moved his hand towards the opening in Deimos' suit and snaked his big, rough hand down inside of Deimos' tight suit, towards that trail of wonderful fuzz.


	4. Mission Accomplished

**Warnings:** Contains yaoi and lots o' smut!

**Preview line:** Praxis took a step closer to Deimos and said, "Good. Now spread your legs."

_**Wounded Blades**_

**Chapter Four**

_Mission Accomplished_

Praxis lowered his head just inches above Deimos' porcelain-like skin and watched as Deimos quivered underneath the slightest tickle of his warm breath. Deimos' skin was pale and pasty, and all Praxis wanted to do was take his tongue, lick it all over the young fighter's body, and see if that skin would truly shatter. However, there were two spots on Deimos' chest that looked particularly warm, pink, and above all, tempting.

Yet, at the same time, Praxis continued to inch his left hand down into Deimos' suit. His fingers felt the surprisingly fine tendrils of hair, which trailed from the boy's belly button and down.

Praxis finally couldn't bear looking at that soft enchanting skin any longer and lowered his lips to Deimos' skin, pressing into the warm flesh. The second Praxis' lips hit Deimos' skin, the boy arched his body forward, forcing Praxis to tighten his hold on Deimos' wrists with his right hand, which were still above Deimos' head.

Deimos tried to stifle his moans, but he writhed incessantly underneath Praxis as the older fighter continued to move his gentle kisses closer and closer to that pink nipple. Ultimately, though, Praxis gave Deimos exactly what he wanted and struck his tongue against the cute, yet already hardened nipple.

"Ah!" Deimos' loud cry echoed in his chest and against Praxis' ear.

Praxis wanted to hear more of his cries. He tested Deimos' sensitivity by nipping at the nipple, twisting it gently in between his teeth, sucking hard on it, and flicking it back and forth with his tongue. Deimos did not disappoint him and cried out, wriggling and squirming for all he was worth.

"Aaaaah! Praxis! P-please… mmph!"

Praxis lifted his head and found Deimos panting sexily, his silvery eyes glazed, and both nipples hard as rocks. Praxis wanted to rip off his suit and fuck him so hard that his cock ached painfully against his restricting vinyl suit. Still, Praxis held back and took his time with the young fighter, enjoying every second of ecstasy.

"Is that really what you want, Deimos? Do you want me to stop?" Praxis teased and pulled out his left hand from the boy's suit since he couldn't get his big hand down any further anyway.

Deimos' metallic eyes widened, his breathing seemed to calm for a bit as he looked at Praxis. Praxis didn't wait for an answer, though, and dropped Deimos' wrists, moving away from Deimos completely.

Deimos' eyes managed to widen even further, his hands shook at his sides as the blood rushed back into them, but perhaps, also because the young fighter was at a loss for what to do next. He looked up at Praxis, unsure.

Praxis had been surprised with himself for being so aggressive with Deimos and even taking the initiative. Still, now that he already had, he didn't mind doing it again. He'd only paused to make sure Deimos wouldn't run, or attack him in the middle of it. Praxis looked at Deimos' still bulging hard on and smiled to himself.

"Take off your suit, Deimos," Praxis ordered.

Deimos looked up at Praxis in alarm, but he quickly recovered. Instead, the boy chewed on his lip as if hesitant to obey, but sluggishly, without looking at Praxis, he began to pull each of his skinny, yet toned arms out of the vinyl suit. He pulled the suit down the rest of the way, revealing his bony hips and muscular, firm legs.

But of course, Praxis' eye went straight to Deimos' hard, pink cock, which matched perfectly with his pink nipples, just as Praxis had predicted. That particular part of Deimos looked warm and alive as it pulsated and dripped with pearly seeds of pre-cum. It was enough to drive Praxis mad. He wanted to jump on the boy and gobble up his cute cock with his mouth, but again, Deimos' words about him being too fast and too rough came back to him.

Deimos squirmed as Praxis continued to stare at his lower half, and he backed into the wall, his bare ass pressing against the cold steel as if Praxis might jump on him and ravish him like a wild beast. Praxis looked up at him and saw the deep flush on his face and realized Deimos was extremely turned on.

Praxis thought it was strange since he hadn't even touched him, but then he wondered if Deimos liked him watching him. Or was it the fact that he'd ordered him? Now that he thought about, it made sense. Deimos liked assholes like Cain. So, it would make sense that the more he ordered Deimos around, the more Deimos would get turned on. But Praxis wasn't like that, like Cain.

Nevertheless, with Deimos shivering and naked in front of him, it was incredibly hard to convince himself that any of that shit even mattered. In that exact moment, Praxis would have done just about anything to be inside of the young fighter.

Praxis took a step closer to Deimos and said, "Good. Now spread your legs."

Even though he'd kept his voice low and commanding, Deimos looked up and protested.

"Wha—" Deimos tried to speak, but Praxis quickly stepped inches from his face, cutting him off and giving him a menacing glare.

"I thought you didn't want me to stop, Deimos. But if you do, then by all means, keep pissing me off and disobey Bering's orders," Praxis said, his tone eerily and disgustingly reminding him of Cain.

He hadn't wanted to go that far, but at the same time, he desperately wanted Deimos, and for some reason, the brat seemed to only like being ordered around. Because sure enough, acting like Cain did the trick, and the boy shakily spread his legs, his pink cock twitching and bouncing against his stomach.

Praxis leaned in close to Deimos' ear and softly kissed it. The young fighter trembled under his touch, and Praxis realized he wanted nothing more than to make Deimos remember how different he was from Cain, how he'd always treat him better, how he'd always cherish him and protect him.

Praxis let his tender kisses trail along Deimos' neckline, down his collarbone, memorizing the boy's curves, the smoothness of his skin, the sweet flowery scent of his skin, and the creamy taste of his skin. His kisses and licks drifted downwards and around those pink nipples, sucking them and devouring them once again, causing Deimos to arch and moan again. Finally, though, Praxis leaned back and dropped to his knees before Deimos.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Deimos asked, shocked.

Praxis looked up at Deimos and smiled. Deimos' cock was only inches from his face and he longed for it. Deimos tried to move away from him, but the older fighter grabbed Deimos' hips and pushed him into the wall, pinning him. He slid his tongue up Deimos' twitching shaft, and when he reached the seeping tip, he opened his mouth wide and swallowed the delicious cock.

"Oh God! Praxis! Yes, mmhm, fuck!" Deimos groaned for him, causing Praxis to moan against his cock in return.

Praxis bobbed up and down Deimos' cock and felt his small hands grasp onto Praxis' black locks, trying to guide his head deeper onto Deimos' shaft. But Praxis had other things in mind, and briefly lifted his head from his vigorous bobbing to lick two of his vinyl suit-covered fingers. With his left hand, he lightly cupped Deimos' balls and slowly massaged them, kneading them into small, round circles. With his other hand, he snaked under Deimos' balls, towards his entrance and inserted one of his wet, slick fingers.

"Oh!" Deimos cried out and opened his legs wider, giving Praxis better access. "More Praxis… I'm… almost—"

Praxis twisted and twirled his tongue down over Deimos' shaft, and at the same time, he shoved another finger deep inside of Deimos. Sure enough, Praxis felt Deimos' balls tighten, his shaft stiffen, and his entire backside clench as his orgasm was wrenched from him violently and into Praxis' mouth. Praxis caught Deimos' seed and swallowed. There was no taste, just warmth, but Praxis didn't mind and thought it tasted delicious. His mind, though, was already thinking about what he wanted to do next to Deimos.

Praxis removed his lips from the boy's cock and took out his two fingers, causing a slight tremor to run through Deimos' body. Praxis looked up and studied Deimos' face. He was flushed red, breathing heavily, and looked like he might fall over at any given second, but damn, he still looked sexy, and Praxis thought he would burst at any moment.

Deimos finally noticed Praxis' eye on him, and amazingly, a deeper scarlet colored his face, traveling down his cheeks to his neckline. Praxis wasn't sure if he should continue since the boy seemed embarrassed by what they'd just done, and Deimos had already gotten off. Would Deimos think it was mission accomplished as long as they'd fooled around? Or did Praxis have to get off as well?

He supposed there was only one sure way to find out. Praxis decided to continue the game.

"Turn around, Deimos," Praxis commanded and knew his onyx colored eye filled with lust.

Deimos shivered as if cold but obediently turned around and faced the wall. The young fighter was entirely limp now, but because of Deimos' masochistic ways, Praxis figured he could easily get the boy back up in no time.

"Place your hands above your head on the wall," Praxis said, still on his knees and behind Deimos.

Deimos didn't even bother looking behind him at Praxis, but simply placed his hands up on the wall, spread out this time, and above his head.

Finally, Praxis said, "Now spread your legs again, Deimos."

This time, Deimos looked back over his shoulder, the panic crystal clear in his silver eyes. Nevertheless, Praxis watched as Deimos spread each check wide enough for him to view that pink and puckered entrance.

Praxis was beyond his limit and wasted no time. He grabbed the boy's ass, delighting in the mushy, fleshy texture. He pushed, groped, and spread those cheeks, causing Deimos to jerk and whimper under his aggressive hands.

Deimos' mound of flesh was too much for Praxis, and for some reason, he had an overwhelming desire to taste it. However, when he bent forward and his lips touched that bountiful flesh, he couldn't seem to stop himself from sinking his teeth into that tasty flesh.

"Ow! Goddamnit!" Deimos yelled and tried to kick backwards at Praxis.

Praxis managed to rear backwards in time to miss his kick. Stunned, he looked up at the fresh teeth marks in Deimos' ass, which seeped small beads of blood around the edges. Why in the hell had he done that? He seriously was turning into Cain.

"I-I'm sorry," Praxis stammered, but Deimos just huffed and turned back around, still holding his hands against the wall.

"It's fine. I don't mind pain, but that was a bit extreme, even for you," Deimos muttered, sounding a bit embarrassed like he didn't want to admit he liked pain.

Praxis probably should've guessed as much since Deimos liked Cain, but he really hadn't even meant to bite him. It was just Deimos' flesh had looked so… yummy. Praxis shook his head, trying to clear his mind and focus.

He shakily placed his hands back on Deimos' round bottom, this time groping him gently and spreading his cheeks to get a better view of that pink entrance. Praxis decided to focus on that flexing entrance.

He riskily bent his face forward again, but this time, he went straight for that round entrance. He stuck out his hot, wet tongue and grazed it against Deimos' entrance just once.

"Aaaaah!" Deimos wailed, trembled, and Praxis watched as the entrance visibly clenched.

Praxis spread the boy's cheeks even further, dug his face in deeper, and began to intensely lick his backside. His tongue flicked up and down, swirled in and out of that deep hole, searching for that sweet spot, and eventually, caused Deimos' hips to thrust forward.

"Oh, fuck, Praxis! Please…" Deimos begged, and reluctantly, Praxis pulled back and noticed Deimos was fully erect again.

Deimos' hands were still on the wall, but his face was turned sideways and pressed into the wall. His hands were tightly clenched into fists, the tip of his cock glistened, and as Praxis pulled back, Deimos' hips shook one last time as they tried to hump the air.

Praxis lips curled into a devious smile as he playfully asked "Please what?"

Deimos panted heavily into the wall, but shamelessly, he said, "Please… fuck me."

Even though Deimos wasn't watching his reaction, Praxis' eye widened and his mouth hung open in awe at Deimos' words. He couldn't believe he'd pushed Deimos to his breaking point. He'd never thought Deimos would actually beg_ him_ for sex; Cain, yes definitely, but him, no. The fact that Deimos even wanted him made Praxis' cock throb in delightful ways.

Praxis jumped up to his feet and stripped off his restricting suit. He couldn't believe he'd lasted as long as he had in that damn suit. His cock was actually hurting, but when he finally pulled it down past his hips, releasing his cock, he sighed, feeling it bounce back up against his stomach.

He threw his suit to the floor and walked up behind the motionless Deimos. He touched the boy's hips, letting him know he was there, but Deimos only shuddered and spread his legs even more for him. Praxis gulped, his control shattering as he rubbed his aching, dripping member in between those fleshy cheeks.

His cock touched that puckered entrance and Deimos stiffened under him, holding still until he pushed his cock through that tight entrance. Deimos quivered under him and even pushed back onto his cock, causing an enticing jolt to go through Praxis' body, and his resolve almost crumbled.

He held on, though, and grabbed Deimos' hips, taking control and leisurely thrusting into him. Warmth enraptured Praxis' cock and tightened around him, clenching him and squeezing him. _Damn, the boy felt so good._ It was a pleasure that Praxis had long forgotten about, and now that he was deep inside of Deimos, Praxis wondered why he'd ever given up such a wonderful feeling.

Praxis thrust faster, slapping into Deimos' ass, enjoying the sensation and the lovely smacking sound it made.

"Ah! Yes, more! Harder! Fuck me harder!" Deimos cried out, and Praxis realized the brat didn't like it soft and sweet. For some reason that annoyed Praxis.

Praxis didn't want to just fuck Deimos. Again, he didn't want Deimos to think he was like Cain. And that's probably how Cain would fuck Deimos… hard.

Praxis pulled his cock out of Deimos completely, startling him. Praxis held onto the young fighter's hips, though, and flipped him around to face him. Deimos' metallic eyes were filled with overwhelming desire, and Praxis leaned back in, rubbing their wet cocks against one another.

"Mm," Deimos purred, and without being told to, he wrapped both of his arms around Praxis' neck, standing on his tiptoes.

Immediately, Praxis grabbed Deimos' left thigh from underneath, giving his cock access to Deimos' lovely entrance. He pressed Deimos' back into the steel wall, bent low for a second, and thrust back into Deimos.

"Oh god! You are so much deeper! Yes! Fuck!" Deimos groaned.

Praxis leaned in close against Deimos' chest, thrusting faster, and felt Deimos' rapid heartbeat in his throat. Praxis licked his neck, leaving a path of kisses until he met Deimos' lips, and suddenly, they were desperately intertwined, clinging to one another. Urgently, Praxis lifted Deimos' other thigh off the ground, supporting his entire weight, trapping him against the wall, and plunging deep into that delicious hole.

All the while, their tongues intermingled, twirled and swirled as if trying to devour one another. Deimos kisses turned into panting gasps and his hands began clutching hastily at Praxis's dark locks as Praxis speed up his thrusting to an impossible rhythm.

Praxis' body neared release as a wave of ecstasy traveled through him. But it was Deimos who released first, his seed bursting out onto his stomach as he feverishly latched onto Praxis.

"Mmm, ah!" Deimos wailed as he ejaculated and his entire backside clenched.

As Deimos' entrance tightened around him, flexing from the aftereffects of his orgasm, Praxis unexpectedly felt his orgasm heighten and rip from him as he thrust once more into Deimos.

"Ugh," Praxis grunted into Deimos' ear, and somewhere, vaguely, he heard the swoosh of a door.

Praxis ears didn't register the sound as his whole body continued to tingle and the rushing of his blood beat against his own eardrums. It took several minutes for his breathing to calm, and he pulled out his limp cock from Deimos' entrance with a slurping noise that sent another involuntary tremor through Deimos' body.

Praxis slowly lowered Deimos back to the floor, both of his arms visibly shaking from the strain of carrying Deimos' weight for too long. But as Praxis lifted his eye to look at Deimos and make sure he was all right, to make sure he hadn't hurt the boy, he noticed Deimos was frozen, staring beyond Praxis and towards his doorway. Deimos' face was pale, almost ghastly white, and his breathing had stilled to almost nonexistent.

Praxis turned to look at his doorway and saw a blond-haired navigator standing with the door wide open. His bright blue eyes were as big as the deepest oceans and his mouth stood slightly open.

"Looks like your new navigator has arrived," Deimos said, a wicked grin curving at his lips.

And in all his naked glory, Deimos crossed the room, stood in front of the traumatized navigator, and held out his hand. "I'm Deimos. Nice to meet you."

**Author's Notes: **

Smexy Deimos and Praxis belong to the amazing HamletMachine

Thank you for reading!

Sadly, this is where I'm ending it. I don't have any plans to write more as of right now. I just don't have the time. But thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it :D


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